In It For Life
by KuraGonzalez
Summary: Just a little sick!fic and the guys taking care of each other. Sort of. It's never that easy with The Shield. [Ambrollins]
1. Chapter 1

This is a prompt fill for RadientFall, who requested a drunk!fic but then thankfully changed it into a sick!fic. This is probably not what you wanted but that's the way the story decided to go and I went with the flow. All three chapters belong together and every time someone else is ill. Hope you still like it. [Sorry for the buggy second half. Fixed it now.]

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**Roman  
November 2013**

Neither of them has said a word ever since they left the arena mere hours ago. Dean is busy watching whatever in the darkness outside, Rome's driving and Seth tries to find some sleep on the backseat. It's kinda fruitless though, since this car is barely bigger than an elephant skate.

He's only resting on the backseat because Dean and Roman are too tall to fit in here. Sometimes it really sucks being the youngest and smallest one.

When Rome clears his throat the sound practically cuts the silence in half, making him flinch violently. He got so used to the steady drum of the engine and the evenly breathing of his brothers that it was almost enough to lull him to sleep.

'I think I'm coming down with something.' Roman did mention an aching throat and paranasal sinuses yesterday already, directly after waking up, and he does sound a bit croaky too. Crap. Whenever someone says these words, it means that whatever illness it is, it'll spread like wildfire. First between them and then the entire roster. But this time he wants to be smarter.

Seth sits up, or at least he tries to, since all their hand luggage is stuffed in the footwell and he has to put his legs on the seat, announcing proudly, 'Good thing I'm prepared for everything ever since _then_.' He's a walking, talking medicine cabinet thanks to one fateful night in February, where he fell ill himself and no one of them was prepared for it.

Dean scoffs, his hot breath clouding up the window and Seth watches the circle getting smaller and smaller until his brother says, 'You were the only one making a fuss.' Oh, excuse him. He was in a great deal of, well, it wasn't exactly pain, since it only had been the flu, but his family didn't really help him back then.

'Because _he_ filled me up with booze,' he complains, jabbing an accusing finger into Roman's shoulder blade. His big brother chuckles, still satisfied with his actions of that night. 'It _did_ make you feel better.'

Alcohol is never the answer. To absolutely nothing.

'Not only was I sick, I also had the worst hangover ever.' Not to mention the embarrassing things he did and said to Dean. The one night he wishes booze would erase out of his mind has proven to be very resilient. No matter what he does, it stays in his memories, clinging to his brain with tiny, mean hooks.

But that doesn't matter now, since he can't change the past anymore and Dean has more or less forgiven him – at least for the minor things. Seth rummages through his backpack, drawing forth two small bottles and a pack of pills. He uncaps the first vial and pours thirty drops into the cap to hand it over to Roman, who drinks the medicine for his sore throat.

'Was pretty funny though,' his brother snickers before he falls into a fit of coughing and Dean casually grips the steering wheel with his left hand to steady the car as if he's intending to snatch an apple in the supermarket. Once they're driving normally again, Dean looks over to Roman and raises his eyebrows.

'We clearly aren't talking about the same night then. _You_ gave him alcohol, _he_ tried to serenade his love for me–' 'Did, not tried,' Roman interjects, making Seth blush and hide behind his big friend's body, while Dean continues completely unperturbed. '–and refused to let go of me while you were laughing your ass off.'

And that had been the good stuff. 'No, same night. I had a great time.' If Seth wouldn't be so worried about their health, he'd love to get some payback for that, but he's a good person and an even better little brother, so he prepares another set of drops for his sick friend, all the while sulking in the backseat. 'Dean wouldn't sleep in the same room as me for a whole month.'

Roman swerves the car a bit, probably to change the lane, but it makes Seth lose count of the drops he already had in the lid. Without further ado, he swallows the medicine himself – can never hurt, right? – and pours out a new set.

'Not my fault your feelings for Dean oozed out of you before you barfed all over him.' Oh God, no. Could they please stop talking about this? 'I was aiming for a kiss,' he moans, cheeks suddenly very hot and he's never been so glad that they use to travel during nighttime.

Rome coughs again and this time he manages to not drive the car dangerously close to the guardrail while Seth is able to balance the almost full cup in his hands until his brother is ready to take it. 'Ugh,' he complains after swallowing it and instinctively bats Seth's fingers away when he tries to feel his forehead. That one moment was enough though, and he stares at his hand for a while, still able to feel the heat and slight sheen of sweat on his brother's skin.

This calls for more drastic medicine, so he buries his head in his daybag to search for all the pills he possesses. Ah, there they are. A secretolytic, something for convulsive coughing and an antifebrile. Hopefully it's not too late for that one.

'Well, you failed miserably. That was everything, but not a kiss. Huh, Dee?' Dean holds up his hands, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. 'I have no recollection whatsoever of those events.' That's not true. Seth knows that Dean just pretends like nothing happened because it's still a miracle to him how he managed to not hurl after Seth redecorated his face.

'Good times,' Rome croaks out, clearing his throat several times, but it seems like the frog in his throat won't disappear, snuffling against his better knowledge that that doesn't help at all. Dean shoots his best friend a death glare before he pulls out his phone to play on it, content with spending the rest of the drive in silence again.

It's quiet in the car after that, which gives Seth a chance to mentally go through the list of things he'll have to do once Roman is tucked in bed. Like find some ice to make a cold pack for Rome's congested sinuses, order some extra pillows to help him breathe better and somewhere in his suitcase he thinks he has a small tube of eucalyptus salve left.

'We should switch. I'm starting to feel a bit light-headed. You wanna go, Seth?' his big brother asks after a while and Seth looks out the window to see the median strip next to him go in and out of his line of vision. Oh. He really should stop driving, but Seth surely won't be the one bringing them home.

If Dean sits behind the wheel, they'll be at the motel in no time. 'No way, big boy, I need to take care of you.' Not that he can do much penned in this hellhole of a car, but he's not keen on driving.

'It's just a cold,' Roman groans exasperated, sounding as if Seth treats him like a child. But who's gonna watch out for his family if not him? Those two Neanderthals still have the mentality that they just need to wait long enough and then the sickness will go away on its own. Which, yeah, does fit for most illnesses, but why suffer for days on end if you can take a short cut?

'And we'll get it under control before we're all sick,' Seth emphasizes. 'I'm on a lucky streak so far this year, so don't you dare break it.' He hasn't been ill ever since that dreadful night in February and he doesn't plan on catching whatever Rome's carrying with him.

Dean puts his phone away again, motioning for his friend to park the car on the side stripe. 'He just likes to play nurse.' That was _one_ time. He'll never hear the end of this either, will he? 'I know,' Roman shudders, turning off the engine to unbuckle himself. 'I've _seen_it.'

Oh, right. Seth had already forgotten that, too preoccupied with annihilating their little roleplay session out of his mind. But Roman walked in on them – he tends to do that, which is not really surprising but funny every time –, bearing witness to Seth in a tight nurse outfit that'll haunt him in his dreams forever.

They swap seats and Dean drives the rest of the way, speeding like Seth had assumed he would, having as much fun as one can have while riding on an entirely empty highway.

Roman's head rests against the cool window and Seth covers him with one of Dean's hoodies, so he'll stay nicely warm throughout the rest of the trip. By accident, he also find two packages of hot lemonade powder on the bottom of his rucksack.

He doesn't have any hot water, but cold one temporarily does the trick too. He'll use the first packet now and ask for some boiled water in the motel later for the second one. 'Drink this. It'll calm your throat,' he murmurs softly to Roman, who takes the bottle and sips at it before he closes his eyes.

Seth carefully puts his fingers on his brother's forehead, not wanting to disturb his efforts to probably fall asleep. He draws his hand back and awkwardly gets on his knees to whisper into Dean's left ear – yes, he even squeezed his head through the car body and backrest, so Rome won't hear. 'We need to stop; he's burning up.'

Dean hums quietly, answering in an equally hushed tone, 'I thought he was coming down with something. Not that he already has it.' 'Seems like he thought it was nothing, ignored it because that's what we do and now it's biting him in the ass. He has a really high fever. We have to get him out of the cold.'

Though fevers generally are a good sign; it means that Rome's immune system is trying to battle the illness by creating a hotter than typical environment. But this doesn't feel like a normal physical reaction anymore. His big brother is emanating so much warmth that Seth would love to ask Dean to turn down the heating.

They arrive at the motel after just fifteen minutes and Seth leaves Roman to his friend while he organizes all the things their brother needs to have a halfway comfortable night. He gets the extra pillow and even some hot water, for which he is very thankful for. It'll help Rome's sore throat and this stuff tastes really nice too.

When he enters their room, he can already feel that Dean cranked up the radiator. The more Roman sweats, the better. It'll suck for them, but sometimes they just have to bite the bullet. Their brother would do the same for them. Or, he would now, after the realized that booze isn't a cure.

Sometimes, Seth wouldn't believe that Rome and Dean are actually older than him – even if it's not much.

While he wraps some ice cubes in a towel, Dean checks their friend's forehead again, cocking his eyebrows when he withdraws his hand. Seth can read it in the irritated expression that he too thinks that maybe they should just go see a doctor.

It's really unfortunate that he apparently has lost his medical thermometer. He was so sure he packed it last time he stopped by at his home.

Roman doesn't even try to fight against them mollycoddling him, just wordlessly accepts every medicine and treatment they give him, a warm and thankful spark lighting up his dark eyes. Dean and Seth act like a well-oiled machine, their minds one, which gives their friend the silence he needs to fall asleep.

Seth never has to give his middle brother an order, Dean just does everything he expects him to do as if he can read his thoughts. Actually, it seems like he has taken care of someone more times than he wants people to know.

He probably looked after his mother every night, no matter how much he despised her lifestyle or how badly he wanted to get away from her.

Around two, his brother has settled himself in an armchair to his left while Seth rests on one directly next to the bed. Roman is tossing and turning way too much for them to find any rest in there with him. At some point during the night, their big brother starts dry coughing, the harsh noise bouncing off the walls of their tiny room, making it sound like ten people expectorate.

It's not like he assumed he'd get a lot of sleep tonight, but Rome constantly moving, the coughing and his fever keep him on his toes so badly that his restlessness makes even Dean's body hum with excess energy.

At four it's driving him insane that Dean keeps tapping his fingers on his legs or starts whistling every time Roman just closed his eyes or polishes his damn US title with his sleeve, which is why he urges his friend to take a nap because they need someone capable of driving them to the arena in a few hours before he tries to kill him with Roman's hair – so there won't be a murder weapon anyone can find.

Just because Rome's sick doesn't mean they get the day off. Survivor Series and their huge traditional tag team elimination match are just around the corner. They need all three members of The Shield at their best, and sadly also alive.

Every now and then Seth nods off for a few seconds, only to jerk awake again, so he can prepare a new set of medicine for Roman to take. He also changes the cold packs when the ice cubes have melted away and helps his brother gulp down some water whenever his throat feels as dry as the desert.

He's gotten so used to the quiet that he cringes when a raspy voice thanks him for his effort and a warm, clammy hand wraps itself around his wrist. He smiles at his brother, bragging, 'I always wanted to be a doctor.'

'Really?' Roman asks a bit surprised and Seth immediately shakes his head. '_God no_.' He doesn't really like people – only a few managed to win over his heart, to be honest – and working with them, sick people at that, always makes him shudder every time he thinks about that profession.

He has so much respect for people who dedicate their whole life to help others in need but he's more than just glad he stumbled over wrestling when he was a teenager. Seth can't imagine himself sitting behind a desk day in, day out or living just a single second without his brothers.

Roman smiles back at him before he coughs violently, sounding as if he's not able to squeeze enough air into his lungs, and Dean stirs in the chair next to him, but thankfully doesn't wake up. How he was able to fall asleep, curled up into the tiniest ball of human body Seth has ever seen, will forever be a mystery to him.

If he wouldn't feel compelled to look after Rome all the time, he'd watch Dean napping; simply because it's such a cute picture. Only in his slumber, his brother looks like a little boy again – innocent and still full of hope, not tainted by anything.

But, to be honest, he loves the cocky, self-confident man that emerges out of this child every time he wakes up even more.

'How do you feel?' he whispers, trying – and failing – very hard to smother a yawn. The sun's not yet up but the sky is already getting brighter, which means he most likely won't get any shuteye until Smackdown is over, wedged in yet another car.

No one can even begin to understand how much he looks forward to the holidays next month, because then he'll be able to sleep in his own bed for a change. Preferably with Dean by his side, but right now he really wouldn't mind either way.

'Like someone set me on fire,' Rome answers equally sleepy, rubbing over his eyes while discreetly clearing his throat. Seth's arm shoots out to touch his friend's forehead and cheeks and he bites on his lip when the temperature is still higher than he likes it to be.

He hums thoughtfully, wiping away a tear that rolled down his cheek after gaping heartily, inquiring, 'You want us to drive you to the emergency ward?' Because Seth sure is at the end of his rope, he's not a magician nor very good at playing nurse – even though he loves taking care of his family.

Roman waves his concern off, squeezing his hand once in reassurance, murmuring, 'I'll be fine. Thanks for looking after me.' Now it's his time to shrug it off, because it really is nothing. Being there for his brothers is very important to him.

'Don't mention it. And as soon as you're back to a hundred percent, you'll be in charge again.' Though he has to admit that it was really nice calling the shots for one night. Even Dean listened to him and when does that ever happen? Roman readjusts the pillows under his neck and closes his eyes in the hopes of getting some rest. ''m fine with you playing doctor.'

And Seth is okay with nursing them as long as they don't have anything icky.

'At least he's good for one thing then. If he can talk that much, he can shut up and sleep too,' Dean suddenly mumbles sleepily and it's only now that he realizes that the light snoring had been missing for a couple of minutes already. What, he doesn't wake up during Roman's coughing fits but the moment Seth starts talking – in a quiet whisper at that – he find his way back to reality?

Nice.

Rome looks at him again and points suggestively towards Dean's chair. Oh, sure, he can do that. Actually, it'll be his pleasure. He nods and throws himself with a delighted yelp at the little curled up ball that is his boyfriend. He hears his big brother snicker at that, while Dean grunts angrily and untangles his limbs, so Seth can properly sit down on his lap.

'You guys are insufferable,' his brother complains half-heartedly, unable to stay mad at them for more than two seconds; at least outside of the ring. 'I have to sleep on you so Rome won't infect us.' That doesn't make a lick of sense and everyone on the room knows it. The huge grin plastered on his face doesn't help his case either.

Dean doesn't answer at first, hugging him close to get more comfy with the extra weight on his legs, muttering mockingly, 'You're lucky you're so cute. Now shut up and sleep. Both of you.'

He doesn't even have to look back at Roman to know he's thinking the exact same thing. It's warming his heart when the two of them chuckle in unison, 'Love you too.'


	2. Chapter 2

**Dean  
January 2014**

They've spent the whole day in stubborn silence – even when they were eating dinner after the show a few hours ago – each of them lost in their own thoughts. This whole _who is the best Hound_ and Punk's teasing to further drive a wedge between them is taking its toll on their brotherhood and Roman doesn't like it.

Of course they each think they're the best and in some way they _are_. Seth is the strategist, the high-flyer while Dean is their mouthpiece and chaotic mayhem and Roman's the silent powerhouse.

They all can do things the other two can't, which makes them such a great team. At first he thought that some brotherly competition wouldn't be too bad but this whole thing has reached a point that makes him uncomfortable. He and Dean have always butted heads but it's gotten a bit out of hand recently.

Not only is there a constant tension between them, Seth also changed his behavior around them. The quirky, slightly dorky guy got replaced by a sinister, way too quiet person. Sure, he still comes up with the smartest blueprints for matches, can recite all the facts about their opponents without ever having to take a breath, but he stopped smiling somewhere along the line.

Roman hasn't even caught them in bed together for weeks now and no matter how weird that might be, he knows that it also means their relationship is in a sorry state at the moment.

It's an odd twist of fate that Dean falling sick lets them forget what happened during work. Everything seems to be back to normal the moment Roman looks over to his best friend only to realize how pale he is even in the moonlight.

Like his brother turned into a ghost that clutches its stomach while pressing its lips together as if talking would make it all worse.

'You okay? You look kinda greenish around the nose.' And that's a compliment. He can see Seth's head appear in the rearview mirror; his friend trying to get a good look at his partner without giving away how concerned he is.

''m fine,' Dean mutters defensively, but Roman won't let him get away that easily. If he's learned one thing in the past few years then it's that they stick together – through good and bad – and that they take care of each other. No matter what.

'Sure? You're sweating Big E style.' He's not trying to attack his brother, even if Dean might think that, since he retorts brusquely, 'Thanks, Capt'n Obvious. 's hot.'

Seth finally sits up, butting into their conversation, casting his lot with Roman. Thankfully, he can always count on Seth being the voice of reason in a situation like this – though he can be a hothead too, which is one of the many reasons why he and Dean are a match made in heaven.

'No, it's not,' he objects, holding his hands out so Dean can see that he's wearing mittens. 'I'm freezing.' So is Roman, but the heating of their rental car doesn't work properly and the temperature just won't surmount a pleasant yet slightly chilly warmth.

''m hot,' Dean points out, batting Seth's fingers away. Roman can hear a disgruntled sigh from the backseat and throws a wink at his baby brother through the mirror that says _he means no harm_. Seth rolls his eyes and nods reluctantly, the pout disappearing from his face. Atta boy.

He checks the road for any other vehicles before he takes his gaze off the street to feel Dean's forehead and cheeks. No wonder he's white as a sheet. 'You're burning, man. Comin' down with something?' Despite him and Seth freezing slightly, Roman turns down the heating completely, ignoring the protesting whine from behind.

If it gets too cold for him, Seth can still put on more clothes until they're in the motel. What's a little suffering for the sake of his boyfriend?

Dean shakes his head, trying to wave his sometimes surely a bit smothering but always well-meant concern off before his eyes go wide and he puts his hand on his mouth, gesturing with his left one frantically through the air, pointing at the wilderness to their right.

His brother doesn't have to say anything, he understands him without words. Roman drives into the nothingness to park the car and Dean barely manages to open the door before he bends over – seatbelt still firmly in place – and starts puking without any prior warning.

'Gross,' he hears Seth mutter and feels knees digging into his back when his baby brother scoots over to sit behind him. As if just being close to Dean is contagious. Seriously, if he had pursued a career as doctor, Seth would be famous for bailing on his own patients as soon as they start ralphing.

'Dee, you okay?' Contrary to his friend, Roman has no problem with people violently emptying their stomachs. Better out than in. Whatever doesn't pay any rent has to leave.

'Peachy,' his brother belches, only to vomit some more. Roman sees Seth wrinkle his nose disgusted, the dark eyes sort of lost because it's in his blood to take care of his family, especially if they're sick, but he has a huge aversion to barfing, the sound alone making him want to curl up into a ball and rip his ears off.

It's not like Seth sounds like an angel singing when he does it, but Roman won't take that away from him. He sure would love to know what his baby brother does once he and Dean live together and his partner is taken ill though.

Roman turns around to look his friend in the face, all the while clapping Dean supportingly on the back, asking, 'Did you eat that beef too?' The pungent smell of spew starts to penetrate his nose, making his eyes water for a split second, while Seth blurts out, 'No. And listening to _that_, I'm very glad I didn't.'

In the worst case it wasn't even that piece of meat. Though he suspects it is the cause of all this. It did look a bit grayish and judging by Dean's unhappy expression, it didn't taste very good either. If neither of them had been such a bullheaded idiot, they'd have told their brother not to eat that thing. Now the fat's in the fire.

'Can you hold on for,' he starts, looking at the GPS, 'twenty more minutes? I'll speed.' His best friend needs to lie down, hide under warming blankets and be in the close vicinity of a functioning toilet instead of hurling for all he's worth in the middle of nowhere.

But before he can even turn the key around, Dean blindly reaches out to him – still crouched over so he won't spoil the insides of the car –, squeezing out a rushed and panicked, 'Don't.' There's more to come, so he waits patiently for his brother to stop burping and spitting until he can explain why he can't just hang his head out of the window until they've reached their destination, like Seth seriously just suggested.

'Road's bumpy.' Understood. He does want to drive on, but he's against Roman bombing along. 'If you need to puke again, give me a heads up.' Seth just makes another desperate noise, already dreading the time he has to get out of the car because it means he loses his safety zone. And cause he hopes that Dean will be done pretty soon, getting rid of whatever upsets his stomach in a matter of seconds as if Seth still believes in fairy tales.

Just as he's about to drive on, engine already stuttering to life, turn signal flashing in the dark for no one to notice – it's like they entered another dimension where no humans exist as soon as they left the arena – when Dean grits out a hurried, 'Heads up.'

And with that he pushes the door open once more, groaning in pain while bringing up his food. By the time Seth dares to talk again his voice sounds muffled, like he drew his knees close to bury his face in them. 'Maybe he caught the Norovirus,' his baby brother speculates and Roman closes his eyes to send a prayer upstairs because he sincerely hopes it's not that.

'You gonna bail on us if he did?' It'd be the first time in almost a year they wouldn't sleep in the same room and to be honest, he'd be a bit disappointed if Seth left them. Dean never once abandoned him, not even when he puked in his face just to fall asleep right afterwards.

What a peculiar way to measure a relationship. He has the oddest brothers ever.

Seth sighs melodramatically, drowning out the vile noises his best friend makes. 'Wish I could. Dean vomiting is like listening to a dinosaur dying, but I vowed, didn't I? To have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.'

What a goof. It takes all of his willpower to not snort at that. But he can't bite back an amused, 'You're not married.' 'Only cause Dean said no,' Seth immediately counters, voice cracking towards the end, making him sound like his brother might have a second puberty voice change. If Dean wouldn't puke his guts out right next to him, he'd even call his little brother's resilience cute.

But really, who on earth would accept a proposal from a drunk person that wants to seal it with a kiss only to hurl all over the love of his life? Actually, only his brother would.

Dean joins their conversation, sitting back with his eyes closed – his whole face covered in sweat, the skin ashen and shrunken –, motioning for him to drive on. 'Ya proposed t'me 'pletely shitfaced.' Since that's the only complaint his best friend mentions, Roman can't help but smile, since he practically offered Seth to try once more, sober this time.

Their friend is too busy with pitying himself though to realize that next time Dean's answer _might_ be different, muttering sulkily, 'Still remember it.' Dean groans again, hands clasping at his stomach, begging Seth to just stop until he feels better. 'Can we _not_ talk bout this now?'

He chuckles lightly when his little brother doesn't even think about letting this matter go, complaining grumpily, 'We never talk about it. It's been eleven months.' Alright. Time for him to intervene. First, Dean needs to rest and not think about a possible marriage when they're not even out to the world yet.

And second, it's his duty as big brother to make sure his family is okay. They can squabble about this soon enough; he'll even be their flower girl if it'll ever come to a wedding. He wouldn't miss that in a thousand years. Just imagine Dean's vows.

Oh, now he wants his best friend to say yes very badly.

'You wanna lie down on the backseat?' he suggests, watching Seth's eyes go wide in the mirror, as if Roman would force him to stay back there with their sick brother.

Dean usually prefers to remain in a sitting position whenever he's sick like this, because he thinks he can practically feel the bile crawling up his throat if he's lying and in his opinion that's even worse. But he wanted to ask, because that's the only thing he can do while driving as safely as he can to the motel. They still have like ten minutes ahead of them.

Dean doesn't answer, just sits there next to him, shivering and suffering silently. A few beads of sweat run down his face and Roman has to check twice to be certain that there's also a single tear in between. His brother tries so hard to not be a burden to them, to keep whatever wants out in for Seth's sake. It's heartbreaking and heartwarming at the same time.

The only sounds in the car are Dean's angrily rumbling stomach – and every time it does that, Roman can see his friend squeeze his eyes shut in pain while biting hard on his bottom lip – and Seth squirming around in his seat. He throws him an exasperated glance through the mirror, but he realizes at the same time that his baby brother is fighting the instinct to jump out of the car in order to be there for his boyfriend.

'I need a– lemme out,' Dean suddenly murmurs so low that Roman doesn't catch all of it, prompting, 'Come again?' His brother waves his hand around to show him that this is another heads up, the words _stop the_ weakly tumbling out of his mouth.

He hits the breaks harder than he wanted to and Dean practically falls out of the car to run and seek shelter behind a small line of bushes. It doesn't even take a second until they hear more barfing and a belt being unbuckled.

Whatever this is – Norovirus infection, an ordinary food poisoning –, seems like his brother got the full program. And that means he won't be able to move until his body got rid of almost all the bacteria, which is really unfortunate since they're still stuck on the forsaken Interstate.

They need to keep him hydrated, but as far as he remembers they only have one bottle left, so he has to get him to the damn motel where it's dry and warm and there's no danger of his brother to desiccate. Sometimes, life on the road sucks, especially if one of them is sick. Thankfully though, the motel is just five more minutes away.

It's obvious Seth has the same thought as Roman, though he seemingly changes his mind once he hears a new splashing sound. 'You can stay with him and drive over there once he's good enough to go. I'll prepare our room in the meantime,' Seth proposes, voice gravelly and shaking, as if he doesn't want to leave Dean right now and hates the idea of possibly missing out on anything, since he's already jealous enough of their friendship.

He shakes his head, unbuckling himself to get out of their rental. 'No, I'll walk. You two take the car.' That way they'll be there faster in case things go even more south. One never knows.

Seth follows him to the trunk like a lost puppy, shifting from one foot to the other. 'You sure he doesn't want you to stay?' Is he Dean's boyfriend or what? Of course he's sure, otherwise he wouldn't have suggested it. It'll be hard enough for Dean to accept Seth watching out for him, witnessing his current state in all its ugly glory.

Roman doesn't want to make things worse by staying around to listen to his best friend vomit and take a shit in no-man's-land without being able to control his own bodily functions.

'This is embarrassing enough as it is. His fiance should be the only one seeing him like this,' he tenderly mocks his little brother, taking his backpack out of the trunk to search for the last bottle of water. Seth sags his shoulders and kicks a stone around, displaying the saddest facial expression on earth while wailing, 'He said no.'

'It's Dean,' he simply replies, shoving the bottle at his friend. 'He'll always _say_ no.' Instead of giving him the answer he wants, Dean will show Seth with every gesture, glance and touch that he does mean yes, a million yes, all the yes in the world. He's addicted to Seth, unable to live even a single day without him.

That month they slept in different rooms made him realize that. Seth is _the one_ and there'll never be someone like him again.

Roman grabs his stuff and takes a look at the GPS again, so he'll remember the address in case it's not well-signposted. Seth throws the bottle back and forth between his hands to help the beverage getting stale faster. Dean really doesn't need to gulp down water that upsets his stomach even more. Smart thinking.

'Good thing about this?' Seth eventually says, pouring some drops into the water – probably antinauseants –, pointing towards the bushes their friend is hiding behind. 'It won't drag on for a whole week or two.' He nods and claps his friend on the shoulder. 'If he doesn't eat anything.' Which is always Dean's biggest problem, since he's so impatient that he tends to do that way too early again.

And speaking of, the vile noises have stopped. Dean's finally getting a small breather, which would be the perfect moment for Seth to join him and take position in front of the bushes, so Dean still has some privacy left. He hugs his baby brother and whispers gently into his ear, 'Don't catch it too. And keep me posted. If you're not back in two hours, I'll come and pick you up.'

He'll most likely take a shower and prepare everything for Dean – like setting up a little camp in the bathroom since he'll want to spend the night there instead of the bed, buying some more water and maybe even some sanitizer, though he doubts the motel will have that – and run right back to them, helping Seth carry Dean to the car.

His friend sighs, shaking the bottle, murmuring defeated, 'You do realize we'll get it, no matter what.' Only if it's something infectious. He's still praying that it was just the weird looking beef though.

'I know.' That's one of the downsides of being so close all the time. Life's a bitch. 'All the more reason to be inside a hotel room and not in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.' Seth grimaces and rolls his eyes, playfully shoving him out of the way before he inhales deeply, preparing himself for the worst.

He watches his brother stride determinedly towards Dean as he walks backwards into the darkness to observe them for as long as possible.

'Hey, handsome,' Seth drawls, voice chipper and teasing, playing the dork to divert Dean's attention from his pain and misery. 'I came here to kiss a frog, so it'll turn back into my very own Prince Charming, but I can only see a rather hot ogre, busy with building his own stash of, hm, let's call it _fertilizer_.'

He hears Dean spit out, probably trying to get rid of the taste inside his mouth, and sees Seth hand his friend the bottle through the shrubs. Roman is just about to finally turn away and run to the motel when his middle brother groans, 'Now ya can ask till you're blue in the face.'

Seth hums approvingly, as if Dean just said something really good. 'Megamind.' 'I'll never say yes,' his brother finishes his half-hearted threat and Roman grins, breaking out in a jog to get things done without having to worry about anything.

Seth will lovingly mock Dean until he forgets about his embarrassing indisposition. In an hour or so, they'll show up at their room, bickering about animated characters – because why not – before Dean barricades himself in the bathroom until the worst is over like the lone survivor that he's been his whole life, refusing to let anyone close.

What has he gotten himself into?


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry for the long absence, but I've been sick and I'm still recovering. Anyway, here's the last chapter of this. I have to admit, this was a lot of fun to write, especially Dean's POV. So, thank you RadientFall for the prompt request. Hope you liked this 3 Thanks to everyone who read this/left me a comment!**  
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**Seth  
February 2013**

'I'm gonna die,' Seth whines for the umpteenth time and Dean has never been so tempted to throw his friend out of the driving car. That idiot is so damn lucky that they're about to reach the motel and he has to slow down. Since he's still in the mood to kick Seth through the door, he gets out of the vehicle to check in, but Roman dashes past him to the reception, laughing mockingly.

Oh, he'll pay for that. Leaving him alone with the five-year-old their brother turned into a few days ago after coughing and sneezing and complaining about a sore throat and ringing ears as if they could magically heal him if he just stresses enough how badly he's hurting practically screams for revenge.

He's thought about _losing_ Seth – just like he loses his iPads all the time – but he didn't have the heart to do it. He is getting soft.

They got him some NyQuil and tried to let him sleep it off but Seth kept on fussing. Today it's even worse than usual. Around lunch time, his friend calmed down considerably, smiling goofily before he dozed off for about forty blissful minutes, just to jerk awake and lament about how he'll bite the dust. If only. Then it'd finally be quiet again.

'It's merely a cold,' he grunts, heaving all their suitcases out of the trunk, so Ro can carry them into the room, while he takes care of the bundle of snot that is his little brother. He tries very hard not to push him away as soon as grabby hands sneak under his hoodie, the cold fingers making him shiver.

Dean never would have guessed that Seth would be so overly clingy when he's sick. His emotions are exploding all over the place for hours already. It's either about his demise or how much he cherishes him and Roman. Right now, Dean's not so sure if he'd call his feelings for Seth love, since he's mostly annoyed – and pondering over how to get away with murder – whenever his baby brother opens his mouth.

'No,' he drawls, the O so long that Dean is amazed Seth doesn't stop to catch a breath. 'I'm gonna die, I can feel it.' All these promises he doesn't keep. So disappointing.

He half carries, half drags this two-toned kid into their room to put him in bed, taking off Seth's shoes because the kid won't move after he curled himself up in a tiny ball. Dean has just thrown the second boot carelessly into a corner – earning himself a raised eyebrow from Roman – when Seth's arm moves at the speed of light to grab him around his wrist.

'I love you.' Even though he has heard that so many times today, he can't help but smile, patting his brother lightly on the cheek. 'I know, buddy.' And having someone like Roman and Seth accepting him as their friend, calling him a part of their family is the greatest gift he ever received.

He appreciates both of them too.

'No,' Seth shakes his head determinedly, the hand on his skin tugging him down, so he'll have to sit next to his brother. It's not good enough for Seth though, because he yanks at his hand, forcing him to bend over until their noses are almost touching. 'I _love _you. You should know before I die.'

He can practically hear Roman grin behind his back. If he's completely out of luck, his best friend even recorded this with his phone to blackmail him in the future. For some reason he doesn't believe Seth minds what he just babbled once he's clear in the head again.

'You're not gonna die. It's just the flu,' his big brother interjects, trying to sound scolding and exasperated, but even Dean can hear how amused he is by all of this. Seth doesn't care, probably didn't even listen to Ro; he simply stares at Dean before he pouts and wails, 'My body is melting.'

It gets even worse than that when his brother sits up and tries to stubbornly shimmy out of his clothes. Dean sighs and puts his friend back on the mattress, batting his fingers away so he'll leave his stuff on and tucks him in bed. As unpleasant as it may be, but Seth needs to sweat it out.

Dean knows nothing else that could work. When he'd been young, his mom left him to his own devices whenever he'd been sick and the times she fell ill, he tried to make her feel at ease and stole some medicine from the drugstore that he thought would help.

He didn't do that very often though, in case she one day would realize how good he was at shoplifting and use it to her advantage.

Seth lets out a protesting noise, hands roaming over his own body, tugging at the black cloth covering his supposedly scalding hot skin. Dean has felt his forehead; it's not even that warm. He's completely exaggerating. 'Someone threw me into hellfire. I'm burning to ashes, I swear.' Case in point.

What he fuck did he take to end up like this? Or better, what was in that cough syrup Roman gave him earlier that turned his little brother into a toddler? He's even had more facile cellmates – and that says a lot.

'Ro,' he groans, turning towards his best friend for some help because he's sure this night will end in blood if he hears Seth complain how he's gonna die one more time. 'Is there anything to shut him up?' He'd even pull a van Gogh and cut off both his ears; if that's the only thing that'll make this noisy whimpering stop.

He should have known that Roman has no intention of making the situation any better, reveling in Dean's helplessness and short temper as well as Seth's neediness. So it's no real surprise when he answers with a huge, smirk on his face, 'A gag. Your dick. Dunno, but we're out of tape.'

Both real good ideas, though he'd prefer the tape they've allegedly run out of. Though luck. Story of his life.

'I hate both of you,' he murmurs without any heat in his voice, holding Seth down by one shoulder while covering his mouth with the other hand. They're together, like _together_, for a week maybe and all Ro does is make jokes about their sex life to cover up that he's already emotionally scarred for life because he walked in on them one night and _forgot_ that he was supposed to turn away and leave again.

Before he can say something witty or sarcastic, Seth bites into his hand so he can be a drama queen once more. 'Deeeean, I can't breathe.' To emphasize his words, his brother coughs theatrically, holding his throat while Bambi eyes beg him to make all his pain go away.

'Finally some good news,' Dean replies gruffly, but he can't stop himself from checking twice if Seth's chest still moves the way it should. Not that he ends up neglecting to take care of this goober just because he annoys the shit out of him.

Seth's bottom lip quivers violently and Dean can't believe that tears well up in those warm, brown eyes. 'You want me to die.' Right now? Hell, yeah. Especially because his friend is pouting like a petulant child, kicking the covers off of him to try and take his clothes off, but Dean won't argue about this. Seth needs to stay warm; period.

'Jesus, Seth, for the last time, you're not dying.' But he will fulfill that wish if his brother asks nicely. Dean really can't wait until Seth has fallen asleep and the room will finally fall silent. Thank God he didn't take his friend home with him – like he originally planned – or else he would be completely alone with him right now.

As unhelpful as Ro may be, Dean's still glad he's here.

'I might,' Seth squeals, trashing around in the bed before his body goes still and a mischievous smile crawls over his face. It scares Dean a bit. '_But_ I can be cured.'

'Making out is not the solution for everything. And I'm not touching you, not even with a pole,' he adds when Seth chooses that exact moment to sneeze impressive eight times in a row. What's not so imposing is that he does it right at Dean's face.

'You're mean,' his friend wails, not even thinking about apologizing, falling back on the pillows completely crushed. 'Yeah, Dean,' Roman pipes up, grinning devilishly, 'stop treating him like he has the plague. Go kiss your boyfriend.' It's an obvious mockery and his best friend can consider himself very lucky that he has his hands full with Seth or else he would make him pay for calling them _that_. And for being this useless.

'Pipe down,' he growls, shooting his big brother a death glare that warns him very clearly: shut up and help me if you know what's good for you. Roman shrugs and finally heaves himself out of the armchair to join them on the bed, cocking his eyebrows at their friend just once and all the fight leaves Seth's body.

What the fuck? One reprimanding look and that idiot obeys?

'Dean, marry me,' a thin voice suddenly cuts through the air and he jerks his head around, not quite sure if he heard that one right. Or at all. Please let it be a trick of his imagination. 'Marry me.' Nope, reality. Great. Just fucking great.

They're dating for seven lousy days and he already gets showered with love confessions and proposals? He just agreed to this opening up, calling each other their partner, the whole commitment thing.

There's no way Seth would be so out of it that he'd make Dean this uncomfortable, being the considerate person he usually is. And it's really weird how he started acting like he was high the moment Roman spoon-fed– oh.

Why didn't he realize sooner? 'What did you give him?' It's the only possible explanation. Roman doesn't even have the decency to look ashamed, only shrugs casually and waves his hand around. 'Some pills, a bit of the expired syrup. Oh, and booze.'

'He's _drunk_?' Dean concludes incredulous, shaking his head to calm down immediately. On any other day, with any other person Dean would have participated in that rib, so he can't blame Roman for getting their brother hammered just so he could find out what type of drunk Seth is. 'That explains a lot.'

Mostly why that dweeb is even more touchy-feely than usual and why he's such a huge pain in the ass. This is exactly why he hates drunk people – they're only tolerable if you're shitfaced too. He's just about to ask Roman if he has some more of that special mixture when Seth cups his cheeks and drags his face down to him.

'Why won't you marry me? I love you.' Yes, he's heard him the first hundred times. And he's so not ready to even think about saying it back or going to the Vegas Strip and have one of those impromptu wedding ceremonies with a fake Elvis pronouncing them husbands.

'No.' No more. Enough is enough. This is the alcohol talking and he's tired of people promising things intoxicated that they never keep. He should know best; for years he was one of them.

Seth rolls over to the other side of the bed where Roman sits cross-legged, griping, 'You big meanie. Rome, tell him I'm the best husband he'll ever get.' No one said he doubts that. He just doesn't want to get asked by a drunk person he pined over for years – even before they met in FCW – until Mr Perfect lowered himself to even consider Dean as something more than his freaky co-worker.

Roman chuckles and pats Seth on the head. 'Well, someone is very modest today.' And _someone_ also made Dean believe he was going crazy for years, made him even follow this Tyler Black guy at ROH until Seth admitted that it was love at first sight for him anyway.

'Deeeean, I'm turning into a puddle of sweat, blood and urine, so say you will marry me,' his brother moans, voice shrill and raspy. Really, who wouldn't accept a proposal like this? Only a person with no heart could turn Seth down.

'I've never wanted to choke you with a pillow so badly.' Roman snickers; reaching out to grab all the cushions though after looking at him. 'Precaution,' he simply mutters and they both flinch when Seth's voice rings out again, this time low, dark and shaking.

'Dean, 'm not feelin' too good,' his friend whispers, holding his chest as if he's suffocating. It's only now that he has the chance to get a closer look at his little brother. Holy– in the span of a few seconds Seth turns white as a sheet, his body giving out, making him plop down ungracefully.

Roman hums thoughtfully, guessing, 'Probably the booze.' 'No shit.' And who the fuck is responsible for that? He should get a bucket because Seth looks like soon his body will reject everything and there's no way his friend will be able to walk to the bathroom in time.

'I just wanted him to be quiet. We haven't slept in two days cause he keeps on coughing and kicking us out of bed,' Ro tries to explain his actions but Dean isn't even angry. Like he said, usually, he'd have a laugh right now too if this joke wouldn't be on him as much as it is on Seth.

Their brother giggles, slurring, 'My tummy feels funny.' As if it'd make this mess any better he pulls up his shirt to run his fingers over that impressive set of abs, all the while letting out little meowing noises. Dean rubs the bridge of his nose, not sure how he's going to be able to put up with that every time Seth has had one too many.

Hopefully it's only the combination of everything.

'He's driving me insane when he's drunk. Swear to me that you'll never ever let him get wasted again.' Roman nods, holding up his hand while saying, 'Scout's Honor.' Yeah, right. Scout's Honor, his ass.

Seth eventually stops fondling himself, remembering that Dean is sitting right in front of him and that he is on the mission to seduce him. His friend smiles at him a bit lopsided, fingers clutching at his shirt, while he puckers his lips, declaring, 'I wanna kiss you.'

Look at that, he's a wanted man. 'Not when you're sick.' Number one rule, buddy. But Seth is as obstinate as always, inching closer and Dean can see his bloodshot eyes and the huge black circles beneath them, the sight making him uncomfortable.

Seth should be resting until the liquor, paired with all the meds wear off and not try to woo him by suggesting, 'Be sick with me.' Dean doesn't get a chance to decline that too since Seth frowns, holding his belly with his right hand while dragging himself up to rest his forehead against Dean's to murmur, 'It stopped feeling funny.'

Finally some good news, even though his brother doesn't sound too ecstatic about this.

Before he can even react or say anything, Seth opens his mouth and barfs all over Dean's chest, the contents of his stomach spilling over him and the bed alike. This day just had to get worse, didn't it?

Seth needs a while to finish his task and Dean closes his eyes to count to ten, all the while willing himself to ignore the feeling of someone else's puke on his now soaking wet shirt. Thank God, his companion didn't have a lot to eat today.

He swallows multiple times, glaring at his big brother. 'No booze for him _ever again_.' Roman grins, though there's a lot of sympathy in his dark eyes, and nods, sitting back on the chair to watch them with a curious expression. Like they're some animals in the zoo that nobody knew even existed. He's probably waiting for him to fly off the handle.

Dean gently pushes Seth on the mattress again – on the unspoiled, left side of course; he's not a vengeful monster, not yet – and clears his throat, a shiver running down his spine when he feels a chunk slowly glide down his neck. 'If you would excuse me now.'

He's slightly amazed he doesn't have to vomit too, even though his brain is screaming at him to do so. He simply inhales deeply and takes off his clothes with robot-like motions. Man, that was one of his favorite shirts. Seth will definitely have to replace him that one.

Dean opens the window and carelessly throws all his stuff out, glad that he'll never have to see any of those clothes again, and steps into the shower to wash himself. He would love nothing more than to stand under the warm spray of water forever, but there's still one mess he has to clean up. While he's at it, right? So he grabs Roman's towel – payback's a bitch – and wipes the remnants of bile off Seth's face and beard before he puts on some fresh clothes.

He still feels like he should hover over the toilet but dressing his friend in his own, slightly oversized sweatpants and undershirt gives his mind something to focus on. It's also very helpful that Seth is out cold by now, has been so ever since he dropped him to hop under the shower.

'Impressive,' Ro whispers, completely unperturbed by the recent events, pointing at the spot Seth emptied his stomach on. He probably thought Dean would lose it, but the night he drank the spit water he learned that there are certain things he can't control. After that, he also worked a lot on his disgust sensitivity.

Dean looks down at the sleeping Seth and tucks a strand of bleached hair behind his ear, muttering softly, 'Well, he's my idiot, so I have to take care of him.' He's in this for life.


End file.
